


big wings, big dreams

by pududoll (aprilclash)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Sports, Bird/Human Hybrids, Coming of Age, M/M, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:48:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28529466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprilclash/pseuds/pududoll
Summary: Mark has big wings and the manager of the school's wingball team has a championship to win, they're basically a match made in heaven, aren't they? (A winged-people AU in which Donghyuck tricks Mark into trying out for his team, seduces him into joining the team, makes him a wingball champion, and falls in love with him, in no particular order.)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 78
Kudos: 309
Collections: Markhyuck Week 2021





	1. first period

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yaori94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaori94/gifts).



> -So, in 2019 my best girl comes up to me and says, "I want you to write me a fic with little bird people." It took me one year and a half, and maybe more since this is unfinished, but I think I made her wait way too long to post this.  
> -So, to be clear, this fic is inspired by Japanese spokon (coming of age sport manga) like Haikyuu! or Kuroko no Basket or Slam Dunk or any other sport manga you can ever think about. I read them all. I'm a huge sport manga nerd. I read my first blb fic for Prince of Tennis when I was in high school, so I feel particularly soft for this trope. Like a good spokon requires, they are in high school, so there will not be rated scenes. But they have wings, who cares about rated scenes.  
> -The sport they play is called wingball and judging from the lack of originality of the name you can guess that I made it up completely. It's a mix of football (soccer) and basketball but played mid-air.  
> -I don't know exactly how long it will be yet but it won't be too long hopefully? Maybe six, seven chapters. Hopefully.
> 
> In conclusion, this is kind of a niche fic, but I hope you can enjoy it because Silvia and I love it a lot <3 Also, Silvia, I know you're sleeping now, but thank you for sharing your time with me these holidays, for bringing me panettone and a pair of ahjumma pants. You're the best and I don't know what I would've done without you.

Having big wings is not actually as cool as teenage chick-flicks (and Yang Hongwon) make it out to be. There’s this whole lore made entirely up of young adult novels and magazines targeting little girls, puns and badly hidden innuendo shared by little boys about what having big wings implies. Kim Yoonho calls it the big wings agenda. Mark clicks his tongue and tells him wing jokes are dumb anyway.

Having big wings actually sucks. Mark is constantly getting stuck on doors, he can only wear custom-tailored clothes and he hits at least four people every time he tries spreading them. They make him good at flying, okay, but he’s not graceful nor cute, so what’s even the point?

“The point is,” the manager of the wingball club tells Mark after cornering him in front of his own locker during the lunch break, “that your wingspan is fucking huge, Mr. I’m-Failing-Physics.”

Mark frowns. “I’m not failing Physics, though.”

The manager of the wingball club frowns and scrunches his nose. He has a potato nose. That’s cute as fuck, even if he just insulted Mark’s Physics grade.

“Well, you’re probably failing Physics if you don’t realize that having broad wings probably means you’re more stable and you can fly faster than almost everyone else in this school.”

“That’s fascinating? I need to go to class.”

He tries to move but the boy extends his leg to bar the road and almost trips him.

“Can’t you just give the wingball club a try, Lee? You’d be really good at it, I promise!”

Oh, dear. Mark has tried playing wingball when he was in... elementary school? He had no eye-hand coordination at all and he kept toppling his teammates over. It didn’t last long.

“Listen, you-”

“Lee Donghyuck, my name is Lee Donghyuck. I’m the manager of the wingball club.”

Mark takes a deep breath.

“I know who you are and what you do,” he tries to say, because it’s the third time this complete stranger ambushes him in the alleys and Mark asked around. It’s clearly not the right thing to say because the boy, Donghyuck, blushes, and Mark stutters and realizes that came out creepier than he meant it, and now the air is awkward and why is he even talking to this boy anyway?

“Oh, you know me? Should I feel honored?” Donghyuck squints, like, his whole face does this strange scrunching thing as if he doesn’t know which expression he should make. “Do you maybe have a crush on me?”

“Do I need to answer that?” Mark asks, and tries, again, to leave. Donghyuck, again, stops him.

“Then, can you do it for me?” Donghyuck asks, eyes shining.

“What?”

“The tryouts for the wingball club. They’re tomorrow, five pm.”

Mark is not doing any tryouts for any club, not even if the manager is cute and pouty, but Donghyuck is making him late for class and he really needs to go, so he nods curtly and finally, finally, Donghyuck lets him go. Good grace.

“See you tomorrow then, if you make the regulars I’m taking you on a date,” Donghyuck says, and he pats Mark’s wing and he smiles and then he scampers away, brown wings almost rattling open with the momentum as he dashes down the stairs. Cute. Damn.

🐦

Mark conveniently forgets about the tryouts. Or he tries to. He really tries. Donghyuck waits for him after class, a wingball cap thrown over his messy hair, a lopsided smile on his face as he sticks his leg out when Mark tries to get past him, tripping Mark and catching him just before he can slam his nose against the ground.

“Were you trying to ditch the tryouts?” Donghyuck asks, latching onto Mark’s arm with a sweet smile and dragging him outside, around the school garden.

“What gave you that impression?”

Donghyuck giggles. “Come on, the field is this way. I even brought a change of clothes for you.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Donghyuck turns so quickly Mark bumps into him before he can stop himself.

“Because I want this team to have a chance this year. I want us to go to nationals.” He looks down. “It’s my dream.”

He looks so serious as he says it. There’s a quiet determination in his words, the steel will of someone who knows what he wants and he’s not afraid to fight for it. Mark envies him. In his life, he’s never fought for a dream. He’s never really had a dream. People like Donghyuck, who shamelessly wear bravery on their sleeves and hope at the bottom of their eyes, make him feel uncomfortable, tiny despite his huge wingspan.

“Well, it’s not _my_ dream,” Mark counters, stubbornly.

“But it could be.”

There’s sunshine playing with Donghyuck’s hair, cradling his wings in golden light. Mark wonders what kind of bird he is. Not a sparrow, but a finch maybe? Or a starling. Something small and loud, that’s how Lee Donghyuck feels to him. And stubborn, of course. Even more stubborn than Mark.

“You know I can’t actually play, right?” Mark asks, because they are walking again and soon enough they’ll be at the field and he won’t have any more time to convince Donghyuck this is not a good idea. “I’m like, totally untrained. I barely know the rules. Why do you want me on the team?”

He slows down and Donghyuck grabs his wrist, pulling him along as he strides past the gym.

“Well, I love this sport, but unfortunately there’s only one thing you need to play. It’s not talent and it’s not even hard work. It’s big wings, and I don’t have them. But you do, so you should at least try. It’s good to have something to work hard for.”

This is why Mark really doesn’t like people with a dream. They dream-shame you. They make you feel bad for not having anything to be passionate about. They try to infect you with their passion. Most of the time they succeed.

“Have you considered that I might not want to do this, after all? That I might not have the time? You can’t just rope me into this...”

Donghyuck stops again, this time because they’ve reached the net surrounding the wingball field. The tall circles, suspended even thirty meters from the ground, shine under the sun. On the bleachers, a small group of people has already gathered, probably waiting for the coach and the manager to arrive.

“You’re right,” Donghyuck says, squinting under the sun to look at Mark in the eyes. Mark can spot a shade of red among his brown feathers.

“I can’t force you to do this,” Donghyuck continues, “if you really don’t want to. But you have a crush on me apparently, and I promised you I would go out with you, didn’t I? You should do it for me then, if not for yourself.”

Red feathers. Red and brown. Oh, he’s a robin, then. A tiny, pretty bird. Wait, what?

“What do you mean? I don’t have a crush on you!” Mark tries to say, but Donghyuck is already holding the gate open for him and the coach, Mr. Im, is walking towards them, and Mark can’t back out now. He really can’t.

“Remember,” Donghyuck says, under his breath, “if you make the regulars, we’re going on a date.”

🐦

Mark doesn’t make the regulars, but he’s recruited into the team. He stays for the extra credit, for the look of relief on his mom’s face when she knows her son is finally doing something else than studying, for the look of bewilderment and awe the team lets out the first time he spread his albatross wings - over five metres of white feathers and strong muscles, the widest wingspan of the entire school - and maybe the way Donghyuck fistbumps him and then gives him a brief, tight hug after the tryouts.

“I can’t go out with you though,” he says, a little apologetic, “because you’re not a regular.”

Mark scoffs. “You don’t have to go out with me, you know? The whole crush thing was actually...”

A misunderstanding, he wants to say, but he lets his voice trail over when Donghyuck laughs and pats his back.

“I know you don’t have a crush on me, man. I was just trying to rope you into trying. And it worked! Welcome to the Flaming Wings!”

It did work. It does work. And Mark loves it.

He loves the training, the salt in his eyes when he’s flown for so long that everything starts to hurt and glimmer at the same time, he loves the adrenaline, gunpowder in his spine, pushing him higher and higher, he even loves the numbness in his limbs when he comes home so tired he can barely find the strength to shower and flop in bed. He loves Donghyuck’s wild laughter when two players clash mid-air only to fall on the ground in a heap of limbs and feathers.

The rest of the team is warm, welcoming. The captain, Jung Yoonoh, fidgets a little every time he needs to give them a speech, but he’s really cool and he smiles a lot, all dimples and shining eyes. When he’s on the field he’s mildly terrifying. The vice-captain, Kim Jungwoo, is terrifying in and out of the field.

There are other sophomores on the team, Lee Chan, Seo Changbin and Park Minhyuk, but they’re all regulars. Mark can fly faster than all of them and for a longer time, but they have the unfair advantage of knowing the rules and having a lot of experience since middle school, so they can play and Mark is benched. He doesn’t mind it too much though. He makes friends with the freshmen instead. Yoon Sanha who, just like Mark only joined because he has big wings, Lee Felix, whom Mark can exchange English jokes with, Hwang Hyunjin and Han Jisung who always bicker but have been friends since elementary school. And then, of course, Na Jaemin, graceful and pretty, who would be a regular if it wasn’t for an old injury in middle school that bothers him if he plays for too long, and the backup keeper Lee Jeno.

They’re Donghyuck’s best friends, and Mark doesn’t know if they get close because of Donghyuck, or if he befriends them first and Donghyuck comes later. Jaemin has a laughing fit that lasts for half an hour when Mark tells them exactly how Donghyuck convinced him to join the team.

“Oh my,” Jaemin says, in the end, while Jeno’s eyes disappear behind the perfection of his smile, “I wondered how he did it, but I would’ve never imagined _this_.”

“The team has been eyeing you for a while, hyung,” Jeno says. “Like, for the wings.”

He opens his arms to imitate Mark’s impossibly wide wingspan and smiles until his eyes are moon crescents. “You were bound to be good.”

Mark looks down. They’re sitting on the sidelines, watching the main team play a difficult sequence involving a loop-de-loop that only Jaehyun and Jungwoo can perform without hurting themselves. Well, Mark can do it too, but they don’t know. Not yet. He’s too shy to tell them. Too shy and too afraid to fuck up.

“Am I though?” he asks, grabbing a handful of grass and pulling. In a few minutes the coach, will come to tell them to stop slacking off and starts running, or flying, or doing push-ups of whichever other torture he thought of, so he stretches his legs and turns towards Jeno and Jaemin. “I mean, will I ever be good enough to play in a game? I don’t want to be a burden for the team.”

Jaemin smiles. “You’re a little insecure and someone, probably Donghyuck, will make it his mission to teach you the rules before the regionals start, but you’re learning so fast it’s like you were born to do this. You’re going to be okay, Lee Mark,” Jaemin says. “This team needs you.”

Mark nods, not trusting himself to answer. There’s a knot in his throat and he’s sweaty and dirty and tired all over, but the warmth of Jeno’s hand on Mark’s shoulder eases the ache in his muscles.

“Hey, ball boys,” someone calls from behind, and they all jump up, startled, as Donghyuck throws a ball over their heads. He’s got his hip cocked and a hand on it and he’s biting the inside of his mouth to hide a smile. “Why are you slacking off? Come on, see all this mess? Start collecting the balls.”

They all scamper away, but Donghyuck pulls on Mark’s shirt before he can go.

“Do you have time later?” he asks. “The coach wants to talk to you.”

“Am I in trouble?”

Donghyuck smirks. “Maybe?”

Mark whines and Donghyuck’s smile widens. “He wants you to play in next week’s friendly game against the team from Busan.”

“But I’m not ready!” Mark doesn’t even remember all the rules.

“That’s why I said maybe... I think you’re going to get a personal coach, Mark Lee!”

🐦

They meet on Sunday. It’s mid-September, but Donghyuck is still wearing a Flaming Wings loose tank top, and his wings are ruffled because he was late and in a hurry. His landing is a bit messy and his wings flap and he does this cute little jump at the end to tamper his momentum, but it doesn’t work and he slams against Mark.

There’s a moment of confusion - Mark’s arms closing protectively around him to stop his fall, Donghyuck’s hair brushing his cheek, the artificial watermelon smell of one of those ice cream packets you can buy at convenience stores for one thousand won - and then Donghyuck is jumping back and punching Mark on the arm.

“Good reflexes,” he says. “I like that!”

“Ouch,” Mark whines, rubbing his arm. That hurt, but Donghyuck is already turning around and emptying the contents of his backpack on the grass of the park. A blanket, of course, to sit down under the trees, and a water bottle, and a box of sweet bread buns and…

“I thought you said you wouldn’t date me until I made the regulars,” Mark blurts out, because of course there’s no filter between his brain and mouth.

Donghyuck looks at him smugly and says, “You wish this was a date.”

It is not a date, and it becomes pretty clear when Donghyuck throws a book on Mark’s lap.

“That’s the rulebook. We’re gonna memorize it in the next two days, and here,” he says, pulling out a tablet, “I have downloaded a couple of games, so you can watch them and learn something. We’ll watch them together later, or tomorrow.”

“And what are we going to do now?”

“Now, Mark Lee, I’m gonna ask you to spread those wings and fly a little for me.”

Okay, flying is easy. Flying is... well, something Mark is good at.

Or, at least, he thought he was good at.

Now he understands why the coach assigned Lee Donghyuck to him as his personal coach. Donghyuck is relentless and unnecessarily fussy.

“Your technique sucks,” he says, as soon as Mark lands again. “You flap your wing too hard and you completely ignore the wind.”

“I didn’t ignore the wind,” Mark tries to say, shutting up when Donghyuck glares at him.

“Also, your right wing is stronger than your left wing. This is normal since your prominent hand is the right one, but we’ll have to work on balance to improve your overall performance. And on your takeoffs too.”

Mark opens his mouth to complain, again, and again Donghyuck glares at him.

“You want to play or not? Because you’re a complete rookie, Mark Lee!” He gets closer and pulls on Mark’s left wing until he’s spread it completely. “Look at this, look at these feathers... What were you doing in the last five years? Why weren’t you scouted earlier? If you had trained a little more now you’d be a war machine...”

He holds the wing up, staring at him almost respectfully, before folding it back. His hand lingers for a moment before he retreats, leaving behind a tingle that runs through Mark’s feathers for a moment.

“I can’t turn you into a war machine in the next few weeks, but we can work on you becoming a competent player, a decent player. Not a regular, not yet, we’ll have to wait until next year for that. But you need to take this seriously and follow my words.”

There’s a beat of silence, almost as if he’s asking for Mark’s permission.

“So, what do we do now?”

It’s the right thing to say because Donghyuck claps, twice. “You fly, again, and you show me your best loop-de-loop.”

🐦

A couple of hours later, the sun is slowly disappearing behind the city skyline. They’re lying on the blanket, catching the last light of the dying day and watching last year’s final, the Thunderbirds from Busan versus Gyeongbuk’s Black Feathers.

Mark snorts when he first hears the name, but Donghyuck frowns.

“Do you find it funny?”

“It is a little overdramatic, I must admit.”

Donghyuck looks down, to the screen, eyes hidden by his fringe so Mark can’t see his expression.

“They’re the strongest team out there. Well, the Thunderbirds too, but the Black Feathers are the best candidates for the Nationals this year.”

His shoulders are hunched. He looks so tiny in the oversized tank top, his wings folded neatly around him to make him look even tinier.

“Are they that strong?” Mark asks. In the video, the Thunderbirds are winning.

“They’ve got a really strong player this year,” Donghyuck says, with a sigh, closing the video. “He’s, like, really good. A foreigner. Tall, with freaking giant wings. He’s a war machine.”

“Well, but you have me,” Mark says, and Donghyuck rolls over and sighs.

“We have you. And I’ll have to make you into a war machine, I guess.”

He looks up, the red of the sunset setting the brown of his hair and wings on fire. Flaming wings, just like the name of the team, just like the red wings sewn on the back of the old tank top he’s wearing, together with a name a number. 01. Wong. Mark wonders who it is, maybe an upperclassman. Nevertheless, it’s a bit unfair. Red looks really good on Lee Donghyuck.

“Come on,” Donghyuck says, standing slowly and pulling Mark up too. “It’s going to be dark soon, we should go home.”

Mark helps him fold the blanket slowly. He puts the book in his own backpack - “You have to study it!” Donghyuck warns, “I’ll quiz you tomorrow!” - and lets Donghyuck have the last sweet bread bun, because, apparently, he’s on a strict diet plan, starting from today.

When they’re done, just as Mark tries to put together a not awkward goodbye, Donghyuck lets out a small _oh_ and takes off, his backpack still on the ground.

“Where are you going?” Mark asks, but Donghyuck ignores him.

Mark takes a look around to make sure no one is there to steal their backpacks and follows him, higher and higher. Donghyuck, with his small wings, has a nervous, delicate way of flying, just like a robin. He’s not fast, so it doesn’t take long for Mark to reach him, but unlike Mark, he’s really good at floating, and it’s difficult for Mark to get close to him without sweeping him away with his giant wings, so he stays under him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, “Come down!”

“Wait a moment,” Donghyuck says, and when he looks down at Mark there’s pure joy in his eyes. “The sunset! Isn’t it beautiful?”

The way he says it is so excited, so unabashedly happy, that Mark takes a moment to turn and look too, and yes, it is. It’s beautiful. It’s like the whole sky is burning slowly just for this moment, just for them, just to see Donghyuck’s smile.

Mark doesn’t realize it when he loses control and gets too close, blowing Donghyuck away. Donghyuck panics and he panics and for a moment they fall, the void swelling in their ribcages the only thing they can feel, until Donghyuck regains control and grabs Mark for the back of his shirt, trying to slow down his fall. Mark lands first and he closes his eyes, afraid that it’ll break his knees, but Donghyuck manages to pull him up at the last moment to soften the blow, only to follow him on the grass, his little wings flapping hysterically, a laugh bubbling up in his throat.

They look at each other, Donghyuck still half-laughing, half-shaking his head.

“You’re fucking dumb,” he says, using a swear word in front of an upperclassman without an ounce of shame, “and we have to do something for your lack of mid-air control.”

Mark lets himself fall down on the grass and laughs with him.

“Couldn’t help myself,” he says, to get the last word, “you looked really cute up there.”

And he’s almost sure that the red on Donghyuck’s face is not just from the sunset now.


	2. second period

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am completely making up the specifics about the games from my quite debatable knowledge of sport manga and all the hours spent watching football with my dad u.u i take no responsibility for mistakes.
> 
> if you're interested this is my writing [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5VTOp7Tn3g1k5epTg6jHHc) (i was limited in my ability to add japanese anime osts because most of them are region-locked on spotify sigh sob but i'm still pretty happy with it)

Mark plays for the first time against the Busan Thunderwinds. It’s not an epic debut. He scores a few points and makes a good defensive play towards the end. It’s good, but not good enough to worry the other teams.

“Not for now,” Donghyuck says at dinner - Korean beef, courtesy of the coach, since they won, by a little margin but they won, against the Thunderbirds’ reserve team, but with their own reserve team, they won. “For now it’s clear you have a lot of potential but not a lot of experience, and it would be unrealistic to imagine you’ll jump from total amateur to top star in the span of a few weeks. But boy, they saw your wingspan. Next year you’ll be their nightmare.”

Jaehyun puts an arm around Mark’s shoulder.

“All our rookies did very good today. It’s very comforting to know we have such trustworthy juniors to inherit the team once we graduate.”

His words are followed by a loud cheer. Next to Mark, Donghyuck stretches over him and towards Jaehyun to pinch his wing.

“You better win the Nationals this year to give the rookies some big shoes to fill, hyung.”

Jaehyun laughs loudly at that, proposing another Cola toast. Mark laughs too, awkwardly, because Donghyuck is half-leaning into his lap, his wings fluttering imperceptibly under Mark’s nose, that hint of red driving him crazy.

When he’s done bothering Jaehyun, Donghyuck goes back to his seat, but he immediately leans against Mark’s shoulder.

“You did well today,” he says, only for him. “That defensive play in the last quarter came absolutely from nowhere.”

“The Cardiff Martins. Their game against... ah, I don’t remember. I saw it there.”

That piques Donghyuck’s attention. Sadly, it also makes him pull up from Mark’s shoulder, but the surprised and a little awed look on his face is totally worth it.

“You saw it once and you were able to do it? On the first try?”

It wasn’t the first try. Mark practiced with Felix in his free time, but he shrugs. Donghyuck grins.

“You’re a filthy liar, Lee. Did you practice in secret? Without me? I’m your personal couch, you know.”

“You’re also my crush,” Mark answers. “It wouldn’t be fair if I let you know everything about me in advance. I need to be able to surprise you sometimes.”

The joke does surprise Donghyuck, leaving him speechless for a moment. Then he bursts out laughing.

“Say what, Mark Lee. If you give the other team reason to worry about you within this season, I’ll go out with you.”

It’s been weeks of Donghyuck using this same joke against Mark. It still flusters Mark, but he’s learnt to hide it better.

“Say what, Donghyuck Lee. I’ll become such a good player that you’ll have to line up with the rest of the school for the privilege of dating me.”

He expects Donghyuck to laugh like he usually does, but Donghyuck’s face falls all of a sudden.

“I was joking,” Mark says, “of course. I wouldn’t ditch you, even if I was that good-”

Donghyuck shakes his head and smiles again, so suddenly that Mark for a moment wonders if he had imagined that troubled expression of his before.

“As if you’d be able to get good enough to reject me, Mark Lee. Dream on.”  
  


🐦

They manage to do quite well at the regionals, but Donghyuck tells Mark that it’s because the Northern Seoul teams aren’t quite that good.

“The real challenge will be the nationals,” he explains as they head towards Donghyuck’s home after a particularly gruesome practice game. Donghyuck promised to show him some of the records from when the Flaming Wings won first place at the national, but he only has them in VHS at home, so Mark is now officially invited to visit the Lee household.

Donghyuck doesn’t live too far away from the school, so they don’t take the subway. They walk instead, skirting around the river and towards the tall Lotte residential complex that opens the more respectable and wealthy side of the district. Donghyuck chatters the whole time to fill the silence between them, wings peeking shyly from the holes in the padded jacket.

“I mean, we’ve managed to place well in the national tournament every year for the past fifteen years, but it’s been more than five years since our school won it. Last time it happened, my brother was the captain.”

In the last few weeks, Mark has come to learn a few things about Donghyuck. Some, Donghyuck did tell him himself. Some was information he collected from the other teammates, or from Donghyuck’s friends, Jeno and Jaemin. Donghyuck was actually born into the wingball world. His father is a national legend, the captain of the team who brought home silver at the 92 Olympics after losing in the final against Russia for just two points. He’s now coaching the Doosan team, ranked first in the national professional league, and rumors paint him as the next coach of the national team. One of Donghyuck’s brothers and his older sister are professional players, and his other brother is a journalist working in the field too after retiring because of a wing injury.

“What about your mother?” Mark asks.

“She makes amazing _bulgogi_ ,” Donghyuck replies, shrugging. “You’ll probably get to try it later.”

“I’m not gonna say no to good _bulgogi_ , but I meant, is she involved in the sport?”

Donghyuck shakes his head.

“Actually, she wasn’t interested in wingball in the beginning. My dad fell in love with her at first sight during one of those arranged meetings in his university. He immediately tried to flirt with her, but she ignored him the whole time because she thought he was too arrogant just because he was a famous player. Of course, that didn’t make him give up.”

He laughs loudly at the idea, making Mark smile too.

“So he’s that kind of person? The kind that loves to be mistreated?”

“My dad? Oh, he’s really dramatic when he wants to be. He’s mean to everyone, but mom could step on his leg and he’d offer her the other one. He courted her relentlessly, but she only caved in when he apparently decided to start baking to show her how willing he was to provide for her.”

“Was he any good?”

“Nooo, he was terrible. As of today, my dad is not allowed into the kitchen at any cost. Nor is _noona_ , for she inherited his terrible cooking skills. But, according to mom, it was cute that he kept trying, no matter how bad he was at it. Or maybe she was just trying to save his roommates from having to put down the fires in their dorm kitchen from all his disastrous attempts, who knows.”

“And so in the end she caved in and married him and spawned an entire team of professional wingball players, did she?”

That makes Donghyuck laugh even harder. “Well, quite accurate. Except me, of course. I took everything from her, apparently. Her wings, her eyes, her lips, her voice. My dad absolutely adores me. I’m the youngest and it’s not a lie to say I’m also the favorite.”

“Everyone’s baby,” Mark comments.

“There’s only one thing I got from my dad, and that’s his love for wingball. I do love it dearly. Even more so than my brothers and sister. And I have very good eyes for it. I know all the strategies, the gameplays, I could literally look at a team and tell you their stats. Sometimes dad asks me for advice with his team.”

“Are you sure he’s not just humoring you?” Mark asks. Donghyuck pushes him a little into the railing.

“You’re so brave for someone who didn’t even know the rules until a few months ago,” he mutters. Then he grabs Mark’s arm, steering him towards one of the automatic gates. “We’re here.”

Donghyuck rocks himself back and forth as they ride the elevator. It makes Mark a little nervous. He’s not coming here as a date, and not even as a friend. He’s just coming as a team member who needs to borrow some knowledge to prepare for the game. Yet, it’s hard to not see this as something more when Donghyuck is behaving like he’s just going to introduce his fiance to his family.

Mark feigns nonchalance as Donghyuck taps the entry code in the keypad and slams the door open with a loud, “I’m home!”

No one answers and Mark takes off his shoes and advances warily in the wide living room. Of course, he thinks, really a high-end residential complex. The house is wide and airy, so bright, and tidy. Donghyuck throws his backpack on the couch and invites Mark to do the same before he takes care of their coats.

“My room is that one,” he says, nodding to a half-closed door. Mark doesn’t go there immediately, too attracted by the framed pictures on the cabinet next to the wide television - perfect for watching games in HD, he guesses. The most recent one is a photo of Donghyuck and his whole family. Mark can immediately see what he meant when he said he took everything from his mother. They really look alike, while his two brothers and sisters look eerily like their father, with big wings, white with dark tips. There are baby pics of the children, but not many photos of Donghyuck’s siblings’ academic achievements. Mark stops by the wedding photos of Donghyuck’s parents - Mrs. Lee’s wings, brown and red just like Donghyuck’s own, decorated with flowers and pearls and golden threads. Next to it, there’s another wedding photo- Donghyuck’s sister, wearing the same dress as his mother. Such a traditional family.

Mark is staring at a baby pic of a completely naked Donghyuck holding a giant conk in his hands at the beach, when the house door opens and a tall man, supposedly Donghyuck’s father, steps into the entrance, eyes immediately locking with Mark’s as he takes off his shoes.

“Wow son, you got a good pair of wings there. You must be the rookie Donghyuck was telling me about.”

Mark blushes beet red and looks around, but Donghyuck is still lost in the depth of the closet room probably.

“Well, I am. Sir.”

Donghyuck’s father steps into the room and looks at Mark. He’s so tall and imposing and threatening. Now Mark understands why they called him the Seoul Kite. He doesn’t look like he’s related to Donghyuck at all.

“And what kind of intentions do you have towards my son, mh?”

If Mark could blush harder, he would, but as things are he can merely stutter, “Excuse me?”

“I asked what do you think of doing to my baby chick son? He’s too young for dating and I’m definitely not giving him permission to date a wingball player, over my broken wings.”

“Wait, sir, I think there’s a misunderstanding, Donghyuck and I, we...” Mark’s voice breaks out in a feeble chirp as he takes a step back, mouth gaping like a fish before the Seoul Kite descends on him to devour him whole.

Donghyuck’s father stops in front of him, his gaze sharp and unforgiving, and then, suddenly, he lets out an explosive peal of laughter.

“Oh my, you should’ve seen your face,” he says, laughing so hard he has to hold himself against the wall. “You looked like you were going to faint...”

“Dad! What are you doing? What did you say to Mark?”

Donghyuck miraculously reappears, running at Mark’s side in a moment and patting him all over to check he’s not broken. Then he turns towards his father.

“How many times have I told you to stop scaring my friends?” He looks at Mark again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know he would be home. I would’ve warned you otherwise.”

“Oh, but this bloke is funny, Hyuck-ah. Among the boys you’ve brought home, probably the funniest. Even funnier than Jeno. And he has the greatest wings.”

“Yes, dad, I am aware.”

“I support this union. Lee Mark, come and talk to me when you want to make things official.”

“Ah?”

“Bye, dad,” Donghyuck says, with a final glare, as he drags Mark to his room, closes the door, and leans his body against it as if he wants to keep it physically closed. “Well, that went swimmingly well, didn’t it? You seem to have dad’s approval so welcome to the family, Mark Lee.”

🐦

Apparently, Donghyuck wasn’t joking. About being welcome to the family, or about his mom’s _bulgogi_. He jokes a lot, Donghyuck, but not about this, and in a short time Mark becomes a regular at his house. They go there together every Thursday after wingball practice so that they can review a game together on Donghyuck’s giant television. Sometimes Donghyuck’s father joins them, and although his constant winking and joking about wanting to marry his son off as soon as possible - to which Donghyuck answers by blushing hard, rolling his eyes out, and hitting his dad in the face with small, angry flaps of his tiny wings, oh, and absolutely no eye contact with Mark for at least fifteen minutes - Coach Lee’s feedback is priceless. He asks Mark about his training and compliments Donghyuck when he hears that he’s making Mark practice aerials.

“I’d like to see you fly someday. Those wings are a work of art.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mark answers. “I’ll make sure to tell my parents, they’ll be glad to hear they did such a good job on me.”

Mark doesn’t always talk back, but when he does, Donghyuck’s father finds it incredibly amusing. He generally is horribly smitten with Mark and his awkward answers as much as he is with his bold ones. But the true object of Coach Lee’s adoration is Donghyuck. Mark can now understand what Donghyuck meant by being his father’s favorite. The pride shining in Coach Lee’s eyes whenever he hears Donghyuck talking about a game is unmistakable and almost intimidating. Mark wondered for a long time how Donghyuck could not feel sad about not being the only child of the house unfit to play wingball professionally, but the respect and the consideration his father has of his opinions about the game must have played a big role in giving him such a positive self-confidence.

“So, how’s the rest of the team doing?” Coach Lee asks as the final moments of the game they’re watching play out in the background.

Donghyuck lays his head on his elbows where he’s laying on the carpet and sighs dramatically.

“Jaehyun’s left wing is worrying me. He got tackled quite badly in the last game of the regionals. He says he doesn’t hurt but I’ve caught him protecting his left side during training, so I told Jungwoo to look out for him a little.”

“If it’s nothing serious he should be good to go for the inter-high nationals. What about Jaemin?”

“Therapy is going well but we won’t have him at full strength until next year. This guy too,” Donghyuck answers, nudging Mark with his foot.

“Mmh. I’ve heard the Black Feathers absolutely slew in the regionals. Yukhei is doing really well. The Vultures have their eyes on him, and the Eagles might as well.”

Donghyuck’s expression darkens all of a sudden and he stops rocking his feet and wings back and forth.

“Well, it’s a bit too early to worry about scouting a junior,” his father continues, “but a lot of people are looking forward to seeing what he can do during the Nationals after last year’s performance.”

“Good for him, I guess?” Donghyuck answers, carefully looking at the threadwork in the carpet. “Why would we care?”

“Who’s Yukhei?” Mark asks.

“The center-forward of the Black Feathers,” Coach Lee asks. “And the most talked about player of the season. Which is exactly why you should care, Hyuck-ah.”

Donghyuck smiles a very sharp smile.

“Well, for what I care, I hope he falls and breaks one of his wings. Come on Mark, I think mom is getting the table ready for dinner. We should help out.”

Mark expects Donghyuck’s father to scold him - that’s not the kind of things a fair player would allow his son to say - but Coach Lee simply clears his throat and finds the remote control to turn the TV off while Donghyuck drags a confused Mark towards the kitchen.

🐦

The days grow colder and Mark starts staying behind to practice with the other freshmen even after the regulars have left. Donghyuck always stays, with his little clear folder and his notepad, screaming at them and disappearing to buy energy drinks for everyone.

“It’s on the school’s card,” he says, when Mark seems too worried to accept. “We have extra privileges because our team does well and we usually place in the Nationals.”

He throws the can and Mark catches it.

“Your reflexes are getting better. Your aim is also improving, but I still think you’d be wasted as just a wing, you could also be a midfielder.”

“You always say my mid-air control is shit.”

Donghyuck purses his lips.

“It kind of is, but it because you flap too much and it’s really a lot of effort since your wings are too big. But also, your flapping would disrupt the other team.”

“It would also disrupt our team,” Mark notes, but Donghyuck shakes his head.

“The team is already getting used to it. Jaemin and Felix are quite aware of you already, I’ve seen them ducking or instinctively balancing themselves whenever you move. So it’s not something that can’t be used. Not now, maybe, but in the future. I don’t know, big wings are useful for covering the whole length of the field, but also... The strongest teams in the tournament all have a very physical kind of play.”

Yeah, Mark has seen the central forward of the Thunderbirds, Wong - Yukhei, Wong Yukhei, he remembers, the most talked about player of the season - literally tackling a defender and sending him flying. The Busan team has a similar ace too.

“That’s not really in the style of our team,” Jeno says, as he lands close to them since they have stopped training anyway. “We are a fast-paced team. Precision and speed over physical strength.”

“Mark is not a fast flyer,” Donghyuck muses. “He’s a strong flyer. He could cover the wings for the entire game without even breaking, a sweat, which is honestly terrifying _hyung_ , but also kinda sexy.”

Mark almost chokes on the Gatorade. Jaemin fake-retches at their side, but nothing can ruin this moment for Mark.

“Anyway, since it’s not really difficult for him to cover the sides,” Donghyuck continues, “I think he could also weigh down with his superior wings in the mid-field, disrupting the other players.”

“And ours,” Jaemin adds.

“You think a mere rookie like Mark can spazz you away, Jaemin? Do you have so little faith in your own abilities?”

They all think about it for a moment, before Jisung shrugs.

“Well, I’m sturdy enough to withstand the air displacement when he flies. Lixie could just stay a little further away so he’s not thrown out. Jaemin-ah, whether you’re strong or not it’s up to you. You’re the midfielder, but imagine having Mark-hyung covering you.”

The thing is, Jaemin is not a small player, but he’s not big either. Middle-fielders like Wong are usually bigger than him, which means that in a direct contrast he would rather duck or get hit pretty badly. But Mark literally takes up so much space just by existing. The coverage he would offer...

“Shit,” Jaemin says. “We can’t use this combination this year, can’t we?”

Donghyuck shakes his head.

“Coach is wary enough of letting Mark play given how inexperienced he is. They surely wouldn’t change all the regulars with rookies with a crazy idea. Plus, none of you is ready to pull it off now. But it could work if you train together for a long time.”

They’re all benched for the nationals anyway, except maybe Jeno if they need a substitute goalkeeper, or Mark if they want to fill one of the wings for the first periods of the game in order to keep Moonbin-hyung fresh for the grand finale.

“We are the future of this team,” Jisung says, uncharacteristically serious. “And we’ll fucking be regulars next year if we can pull this off, won’t we?”

“We will,” Jaemin says. “We definitely will.”

“And Mark-hyung will be captain,” Jeno adds, triggering a chorus of cheers that makes even Donghyuck snicker, while Mark shakes his head like he wants it to fall off. He might be the _hyung_ but he’s the rookiest of them all.

“You can’t refuse, _hyung_. Now you’ll have to stay in the team next year too.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” Mark says. “Gotta make the regulars first. I was promised a date.”

“Date?” Felix picks up. “What date?”

“So you don’t know the story of how Donghyuck conned Mark into coming to the tryouts?”

“No, wait, Jaemin, Jaemin, I thought we were friends.”

Jaemin tries to fly away but Mark pulls on his ankle and drags him down, and everyone is screaming, laughing, their flapping wings raising a mushroom of dust over the field. Mark gets an elbow in his kidney and a mouthful of feathers right before Donghyuck throws his clear folder on the ground and jumps on top of all them, so light he doesn’t really do anything but add to the confusion. Mark ends up piggybacking him back to the locker room so that he can take the last ball to the crate, the chatting of the other kids low and deep in the emptiness of the gym as they clean down to leave.

They all get ice cream at the local CU, even though it’s still cold enough to wear a padded coat. They bet on who can finish it first and Hyunjin wins but gets brain-freeze like a cat. The roads are damp with unshed rain, the lights flash orange at the bus stop as they say goodbye to the other kids. Mark hops on his bus with his heart bursting with something, and thinks that joining this team was a blessing, that there’s nothing else he would like to do with his life until he graduates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the third fic i update in three days have pity on me and leave me a little tiny comment and i'll love you forever 🥺  
> next chapter we'll have a non-date date, the beginning of the nationals, and mark for once not being alone in overthinking things.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment of a kudo if you liked it <3


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